


just like me, they long to be

by lifedontjustexist



Series: Close To You. [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: (not really) - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Character Study, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I have no self control, M/M, Mentioned Skip Westcott, More like implied cuz he doesn't show up 'onscreen', Second chapter is Peter-centric, Then we’ll get to the main fic, Welp there’s gonna be a second chapter of this, harley-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-23 19:31:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18556351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifedontjustexist/pseuds/lifedontjustexist
Summary: “I’m here for you,” Harley whispers to himself. He knows that his soulmate won’t hear—that’s not how their bond works. But the words help him, so maybe they’ll help his soulmate. “I promise you that I won’t leave you. You won’t leave me, so I won’t leave you.” And Harley Keener only ever makes promises that he’ll keep.AKA the Parkner soulmates AU that I can't get out of my head





	1. Harley.

**Author's Note:**

> My first contribution to this fandom as well as this website in general. I'm posting this as I'm delirious from lack of sleep so who knows if I'll regret this in the morning idfk.
> 
> I can't get this AU out of my head so I guess if enough people like it, I might just write an entire fic about this AU. Might wait till after Endgame tho, to see if Harley shows up like the rumors say.
> 
> Anyways, Harley needs more love and I hope I did his character justice. Enjoy~~~

Harley Keener is four years old when he first feels a sharp pinch on his arm as if he’s being pierced by a needle. It reminds him of being at the doctor’s and getting a shot. His eyes fill with tears and he runs to his mom.

She’s worried at first, but then she smiles and chuckles when she doesn’t see any marks on his skin. She crouches down and brushes Harley’s curls out of his face. “It’s nothing bad,” she tells him, and his breathing steadies at her assurance. “It’s your soulmate.”

Harley furrows his eyebrows. “Soulmate?”

“Someone you’re meant to love more than anything in the world,” she explains, “someone who you’re made for. The universe keeps you connected to them so you can find each other.”

“So what does this mean?” Harley asks, holding his arm out.

His mom smiles wider, “The connection is different for everyone.” She pulls her sleeve up to show him where his dad’s initials look inked into her skin. “For you, it looks like you feel it when they get hurt. And when you get hurt, they’ll feel it too.”

Harley’s eyes widen, a twinge of fear in his heart. “I don’t want that! What if I get hurt badly, I don’t wanna hurt anyone else too mom!”

As he speaks, there’s a soft pressure on his shoulders and arms, as if someone is hugging him. Something courses through his veins, akin to the feeling he gets when his mom tucks him in for bed. It’s comforting. Safe. Harley finds that he likes the feeling.

His mom sees his expression and laughs to herself. “Perhaps it’s actually more complicated than I thought, hm?” She kisses his forehead, and Harley barely realizes it because he can still feel the phantom hug surrounding him.

* * *

Over time, Harley figures out how it works. 

Pain isn’t what connects them. Whoever his soulmate is, Harley only feels them when their emotions are high. During these moments, they share emotions as well. They share what they feel in more ways than one. He hates the idea of making his soulmate sad, so Harley tries to make sure he’s only ever happy. He doesn’t want to be the cause of anyone’s pain. It almost makes him envy the kids with clocks on their wrists, or tattoos on their ankles, or the ones who see the world in black and white.

But then Harley feels the telltale sign of his soulmate’s hug, and he forgets why he was ever envious in the first place.

He does his best to get through school. The material is easy—too easy if you ask him—but Harley is starting to think that he likes machines more than people. 

Harley dreams of building something that’ll last. His ideas bounce around in his youthful mind, everything from robots to fixing up an old car to potato guns to lightsabers.

He’s still young, too young to build anything advanced, but he keeps a list of his ideas hidden under his pillow. When he’s older, he’ll ask his dad to help him. Maybe it’ll drive them closer, since everything else Harley does seems to drive them apart.

* * *

He never gets the chance.

* * *

Harley cries for hours when he realizes that his dad isn’t coming back.

His mom is scrubbing harder than necessary at the dishes when Harley looks up from where he’s playing with Abbie on the living room floor. 

“When’s dad coming back?” he asks.

Her scrubbing slows, and then the water is running as his mom stands motionless at the sink. There’s a long moment that goes by as nothing happens. There aren’t words exchanged. There’s only a pause as the tension fills the room, then Harley stands and walks to his mom. He reaches around her and shuts off the water.

She’s crying. Silently. Mournfully. Harley’s never seen her cry before.

His eyes catch on the two letters on her wrist, tattoos over her veins. A mark that won’t ever come off. The skin there is red and irritated. Harley wonders if it was really dishes that she was scrubbing at.

He leaves her and goes to help Abbie clean up.

At nighttime when he’s alone and Abbie is asleep and his mom has finally moved from the kitchen sink, Harley breaks down. He cries into his pillow, unable to stay quiet like his mom had. He sobs and keeps it muffled to keep what’s left of his family asleep.

He cries and cries and cries, and everything just _hurts._

Around midnight, Harley feels his soulmate’s signature hug. It’s different this time. There’s none of the same playfulness hidden under the comfort of thumbs rubbing circles into his forearms. Instead there’s an understanding, a familiarity of what it’s like to be sad.

Harley opens his eyes, almost dried shut with tears, and rolls onto his side. He imagines someone lying next to him, the shadow of a child his age brushing his tears from his cheeks and whispering, _“I’m here, Harley. I won’t leave you.”_

He falls asleep whispering, “Don’t leave me, don’t leave me, don’t leave me,” until his pleas are nothing more than a ghost in the night.

* * *

A week before Harley turns seven, he once again feels what it’s like to lose his dad.

But there isn’t the knot of abandonment in the pit of his stomach. It feels more like something is being ripped away from him, as if there isn't a choice and it's too late to turn back. No, _this time,_ no one got distant, no one went to 7-Eleven, no one left their soulmate behind with a scar and two children and a stack of bills. There's no warning.

It’s different, but it hurts the same.

Harley isn’t usually the one to comfort his soulmate, but he tries his best. He hugs himself the way his soulmate surely does, hoping that the bond will transfer the ease Harley is trying to emanate. 

He gets it. He hopes his soulmate knows that Harley _gets it._

His heart drops to his stomach when he feels a sharp pain on his palms. He looks at his hands, seeing nothing, but then he curls his fingers in and finds that the areas of skin in pain match his fingernails.

_You’re hurting yourself._ Harley wants to _cry._ His soulmate is digging his nails into his palms and it hurts, but not as much as the knowledge of what’s happening to them.

Harley gets an idea, and brings his palm to his lips. He kisses the skin lightly, hoping that his soulmate gets the message. 

Slowly, the pain eases. Harley breathes a sigh of relief.

In the silence of the evening, Harley covers himself in blankets and pillows and tries to be as cozy as possible, because the connection is sensitive right now and he knows that it’ll help to feel warm. His soulmate needs him right now. Harley has to be strong, the way his soulmate was for _him_ when his dad left. 

“I’m here for you,” Harley whispers to himself. He knows that his soulmate won’t hear—that’s not how their bond works. But the words help him, so maybe they’ll help his soulmate. “I promise you that I won’t leave you. You won’t leave me, so I won’t leave you.”

And Harley Keener only ever makes promises that he’ll keep.

* * *

He’s watching the Stark Expo. And once drones attack, he feels _fear._

But this isn’t fear for his idol. It’s fear from his _soulmate._

Harley keeps his eyes on the screen, eyes wide as he watches the chaos unfold. He wonders if it’s a coincidence, but he also isn’t sure if he’s that lucky.

He doesn’t blink, still watching the damage unfold.

At some point, the fear mixes with bravery. The two feelings mix together, and all Harley can think is _if you’re at the Stark Expo, get to safety, don’t do anything stupid—_

Awe and relief overcome the fear and the bravery. Harley wants to smile, but he’s too afraid. He couldn’t help but feel as if his soulmate had been in danger.

His eyes stay locked on the screen. If his soulmate was there, Harley knew two things:

One, his soulmate more than likely was also a fan of Iron Man.

Two, he had come _this close_ to losing someone else important to him. And Harley couldn’t let that happen again.

* * *

It’s different this time.

Harley can’t explain it, really. He’s at the library when there’s a tug at his gut, and he stops just feet away from the table he’s already begun to stack books on.

His eyebrows furrow, and he winces when he feels a sharp pain on his hip.

It’s so vivid that for a second, he wonders if it’s _him_ or his _soulmate._ But then _terror_ and _betrayal_ pool in his gut and Harley knows that it’s his soulmate.

He sits down quickly, already beginning to hug himself in hopes that it’ll help. He sends reassurances and comfort through the bond and to his soulmate.

Then the bond blocks off, as if a tether has been cut between them.

Harley blinks at his books in confusion. It wasn’t a rejection, no. He could still feel the invisible string at the back of his mind that connected him to his soulmate. It was more as if he had been shoved out, as if his soulmate didn’t want to be reassured.

Or…no. His soulmate didn’t want him to feel whatever it was _they_ were feeling.

They’ve gotten good at this. At being happy when the other was filled with joy, at being there to hug when the other was sad, at being calm and present when the other just needed a friend. They couldn’t write on their skin to send messages like other people could. They couldn’t search up each other’s names on Google. They couldn’t practice greeting everyone differently so that their first words would be unique enough to be a soulmark.

They had something special. Something that allowed them to remain connected through every emotion and touch possible. Harley no longer got jealous of people who had more obvious markings, he couldn’t be when his own was so unique and so special and so _theirs._ They’ve created a language of feelings and touches that’s grown as time has passed. Through Harley’s abandonment issues and his soulmate’s asthma, they’ve always accepted the other’s help.

So why would his soulmate shut him out _now_?

It isn’t until he’s sitting in his garage that Harley feels his soulmate again. It comes back suddenly, a tight hug and a heaviness in his chest that tells him that his soulmate is crying. By the ache in his lungs, they were having trouble breathing too.

Harley wastes no time turning away from his potato gun to hug back, a questioning _why?_ on the tip of his tongue.

There’s no clear response. Only remorse.

Harley hopes that his emotions convey the message his wishes he could say. _Don’t shut me out again. I’m here for you, remember?_

For a moment, he feels nothing. Then he feels something like a hand in his, and Harley smiles before clasping his hands together and gripping tightly. He feels the pressure on his hands that’s his own doing, but he feels his soulmate too.

Harley brings his clasped hands to his lips. “I love you,” he mutters into his thumbs, closing his eyes and smiling sadly. “I love you, and I won’t let anyone else hurt you.”

He’ll be strong, he decides. He’ll be strong because in moments like these, someone has to be the strong one.

* * *

Harley is starting to think that the bullies are right.

The fifth time that asphalt digs into his shoulder blades, Harley wonders if it’s worth telling the teachers anymore. They don’t seem to do anything. His sister is too young and his mom is always working, family isn’t an escape for him. School is slowly becoming a hellhole. Harley begins to contemplate if there’s anything good going for him besides his soulmate.

Then Tony Stark breaks into his garage.

There’s joy from his soulmate at the first sign of Harley’s excitement. They’re happy for him. Though surely not as happy as Harley is for himself.

He helps his idol through town, and the awed rambling starts soon after.

“Do you have medication?”

“Nope.”

“Do you need to be on it?”

“Probably.”

“Do you have PTSD?”

“I don’t think so.”

Tony runs, his anxiety attacking him full force. He throws snow at Harley, snarking out, “Your fault.” Even then, Harley can only smile.

When the bad guys get ahold of him, Harley chokes out an, “I’m sorry.”

Tony just shakes his head. “It’s not your fault, kid.”

He gets out of it alive, the two of them working together (though Tony might deny that). Eventually, Tony Stark drives away, leaving Harley behind in Rose Hill.

He’s not disappointed. Especially not when he comes home and finds that his garage has brand new equipment.

Harley smiles widely, and that smile only grows when he feels his soulmate’s grip on his wrist.

_Pride._ That’s what they both feel.

He grabs the old model of his potato gun and thinks of the cruel kids at his school. If teachers wouldn’t help him, Harley would help himself.

* * *

He feels angry.

Harley thinks about his sister, his mom, and _especially_ his soulmate. He thinks about his dad walking out through the front door and never coming home.

It’s been years, but it still hurts.

There’s snowfall outside. Christmas is approaching. A hook on the mantle remains unused, a hook that once belonged to Harley’s dad.

Harley creeps out of his room at two in the morning, the list of projects in his hand. The same list he once kept under his pillow with the intent of working on with his dad. Harley takes that out with him along with a notebook and a pencil. 

He sits in front of the fireplace and stares into the dying fire. Then Harley opens his notebook to a fresh page and begins to write.

**1) we’ll meet as teens and fall madly in love**

He pauses, biting the eraser. Then he continues his list.

**2) we’ll go to college and get amazingly cool degrees because there’s no way you’re _not_ smarter than I am**

**3) after we get our masters, we’ll travel the world and visit any country we want to**

**4) before going back home, we’ll go to France**

**5) we’ll get married on the Eiffel Tower, and your family and mine will all be together to see it**

Harley’s cheeks are wet, and he doesn’t realize he’s crying until a drop hits the notebook paper. He clenches his fists, but then relaxes as he feels his soulmate reassure him that it’ll all be okay.

With that, Harley writes one more point.

**6) and we’ll be happy.**

He rips the paper out of the notebook, folding it and pressing a kiss into it. He then puts it to the side along with the notebook and his pencil, then he picks up the first list. The list of projects that he’d never get to do with his dad.

Harley’s eyes harden as he leans forward and throws the paper into the embers, watching flames lick the edges as the paper slowly turns to ash.

He’s close enough that the heat burns into his skin, enough to make him sweat. But he doesn’t back away, not until the paper is gone.

When he finally goes to sleep that night, it’s with a different list under his pillow and his fingers curled around his own wrist.

* * *

Harley is freshly fourteen, and his soulmate is having a good day. 

There’s the buzz of excitement, and Harley’s grin is ear-splitting as he thinks about what’s going on that his soulmate is so excited about. 

He’s getting on his skateboard when there’s a sting on the back of his hand. He brings his hand to his face, frowning and muttering a very delayed, “Ouch.” He feels nothing from his soulmate, so he draws it up to a possible mosquito bite.

That night, he feels sick. As if he needs to throw up. Harley clutches his stomach and groans in pain, collapsing on the couch.

“Whimp,” Abbie says as she walks by, plopping down on the couch next to him. 

Harley resists the urge to flip her off, having to remind himself that she’s still a kid. “It’s not me,” he groans, “it’s my soulmate.”

“Oh,” she pauses, “never mind.”

“Sometimes I think you like my soulmate more than me.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Rude.”

He stays there curled on the couch for the rest of the evening. Abbie eventually retires to her room, leaving him there in pain.

There’s an underlying fear in his soulmate bond, and Harley frowns at it. He supposes that it’s warranted, given how sick he’s felt over the past few hours.

He’s in the process of dragging himself to bed when he notices that his mother is asleep at the kitchen table, a magazine and a stack of bills in front of her.

He observes her. There are bags under her eyes. She’s aged, but she’s still young compared to other parents of kids his age. She looks tired, old, worn, but for a moment he could see the person she might’ve been before him. It’s now that he realizes that she existed _before_ him. She was a kid once, too. She lived and dreamt and hoped. She had dreams of leaving Rose Hill and traveling the world. There was a time when she never wanted to marry, or have kids, or be tied to anything other than the wind.

She loves him, he knows she does. And she loves Abbie. But that just makes it hurt even more.

He places a blanket over her shoulders. 

Eventually, the nightmares get bad, and Harley decides that it’s better to stay awake than to keep dreaming.

* * *

The feeling of loss turns up again. Harley wonders just how many people his soulmate has lost, and how much he has left.

* * *

He’s fourteen and a quarter when he feels anticipation mixed with fear, excitement, and caution. Harley’s stomach drops at one point as if he’s flying, and he laughs to himself in wonder at what the hell his soulmate could possibly be doing.

At the end of the day, he only feels that his soulmate is happy. Harley smiles to himself as he swings back and forth on the longtime-unused swingset in the backyard. He looks through the tree branches and up at the clouds in the sky.

Sunlight peeks through the leaves, and Harley wonders if his soulmate is seeing the same sky.


	2. Peter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a lot shorter (since the main fic WILL be Harley-centric, I’m not gonna delve too deep into Peter’s side of things), and it’s also a lot more lighthearted.  
> Main fic should be up within the next few days, don’t get used to updates everyday cuz I’m a disorganized mess—

Peter is seven when Uncle Ben takes him to get new glasses, and he subsequently nearly pokes his own eye out when trying on new frames.

It takes ten minutes of crying and at least fifteen apologies from Peter to the employee (for causing a scene, of course!) until Ben is able to ease his sniffles with ice cream. It then takes thirty seconds for Peter to go back to smiling and acting as though nothing had happened.

At first, he feels concern from his soulmate, but then there’s a bit of humor once Peter calms down and his soulmate surely realizes that this was just Peter being a clutz.

The past few months have been hard, adjusting to life with Aunt May and Uncle Ben. Peter loves them, but they aren’t his parents. He still vividly remembers the night that his ‘visit’ became _permanent,_ and how long he’d cried. He remembers his breathing becoming extremely uneven, his hands hurting from where his nails bit into his skin, and his throat aching and screaming at him to drink water and hydrate himself.

More than anything though, Peter remembers his soulmate’s soothing kisses against his hands, and the faint emotions of understanding and mourning.

Once dinner is over, May ruffles his hair and Peter beams when she and Ben review his progress report. As they discuss where to frame the near-perfect marks, Peter dashes to the living room and takes out a blank sheet of computer paper, along with a worn set of crayons.

He starts drawing.

It’s not _good_ , not even for a kid his age. Peter has never been the artsy type. He once drew a triangle and someone thought it was a circle, _art is not his thing._ But he draws now with all his concentration and a feeling of determination.

In the end, it’s a portrait of Peter and his soulmate (which is nothing more than a stick figure that could easily be any person of any gender) holding hands on top of a flowery hill. Peter draws his own parents there, standing next to Ben and May, and he draws Ned and two more blank figures that represent his soulmate’s parents. 

He knows this isn’t possible. His parents won’t ever see his wedding or even his double-digit years. There’s only him and his soulmate and his aunt and uncle. But he doesn’t care, dreams can be dreams and he can fantasize all he wants. 

Peter kisses the paper and turns it over, already writing a note. There are a three errors that he can’t erase since he’s doing this in crayon. His handwriting isn’t the prettiest. 

He loves this letter all the same.

When bedtime comes, Peter dashes to his room and tapes his letter to the window. It’s childish, sure, but he only cares that he can see it from his bed.

He lies down, glasses folded neatly on his dresser, and smiles at the sight of the paper on his window.

It’s a bit far to make out the words, but he knows them by heart already.

_**I know you’re out there. I’ll find you soon, I promise.** _

He falls asleep gripping his own wrist, because he knows it’s a good feeling, and he wants his soulmate to know that he’ll always be there for them.

* * *

Ben is the one who first gives him the idea, but Aunt May is the one who actually brings him out to the store to get the binder. It’s red and blue, Peter’s favorite colors.

The second he gets home, he puts all of his past drawings and letters into the binder, and opens his notebook to write a new letter.

He doesn’t have a soulmate bond that allows him to communicate conventionally with his soulmate, but this binder means something to Peter. He hopes it’ll mean something to his soulmate. One day, once they’ve met and they’re happy together, Peter will show his soulmate years worth of letters to his beloved.

His smile is so wide that it hurts just to look at. Peter thinks that today is the first time he’s smiled this brightly since his parents died.

There’s a shared excitement between he and his soulmate, and it leaves a giddy feeling behind that his soulmate is so excited for him despite not knowing why Peter is happy. This is something that Peter wouldn’t give up for anything else in the world.

He glues a picture of himself and his parents into this makeshift ‘scrapbook’ of his. It’s from when he was four, a Christmas dinner that he still holds dear in the fleeting memories of his life _before._ He’s wearing his father’s oversized lab coat and goggles that his mother had given him.

Peter feels sad for a moment, but then he just feels bittersweet. The tug at his heart reminds him that his soulmate is there. Feeling. Listening in a way only they can. It takes the tension from Peter’s shoulders as he relaxes. 

* * *

He gets a tutor at one point. The biggest lesson he learns is how to protect his soulmate from the pain Peter himself has no choice but to endure.

Eventually, he doesn’t even need to block it off. He becomes numb to it. And if he doesn’t feel anything emotionally, his soulmate won’t feel anything physically.

* * *

Peter is fourteen when he puts on the suit for the first time and becomes Spiderman.

Slinging through the streets is _exhilarating._ It’s the most freeing thing he’s ever felt, soaring above the city and helping anyone who needs aid. 

He feels _useful_. It’s an addicting feeling when all you’ve known is what it means to be a burden.

Day one of patrol goes smoothly. He knows that Parker Luck will likely make day two shitty, but he’s too happy to care.

His soulmate feels content. 

He likes that feeling. He feels the same way.

* * *

This time, he’s fifteen and Mr. Stark sends him a text that he has some news to share with him once Peter arrives at the tower for his ‘internship’. 

He feels anticipation. His soulmate feels it too.


End file.
